


Your Way. My Way.

by Combatboots



Series: Clexa Love Week [4]
Category: The 100
Genre: Begging, Biting, Bossy Clarke, Clothed Sex, F/F, Fingerfucking, Fingering, Grinding, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, Top Clarke, gagging, mildly dom/sub, needy bottom lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Combatboots/pseuds/Combatboots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is exhausted from competing in the Kongeda games. She's done being in control for the day. When Clarke joins her in the tent and immediately makes her plans for the evening apparent, Lexa is more than willing to surrender herself to Clarke's whims</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Way. My Way.

**Author's Note:**

> Authored by 'BOOTS'

Your Way, My Way

Lexa grips at the edge of her war table with both hands. She feels lightheaded and exhausted, wired and alert all at the same time. A result of the fatigue from sparring all day long and the adrenaline released by her body to see her through til dusk. It had been the day of the Kongeda games everyone had been waiting for; the day that Heda took on the fighting champions from all other clans in a gruelling series of matches. As expected, Lexa had emerged the victor, but there had been some fierce competition and she certainly feels the lasting imprint of every match-up deep in her bones.

The victorious Commander lets out a laboured whine as she chances letting go of the table to pour herself a drink. So wrapped up is she in the task of reaching out for a glass and the metal water jug, that she barely notices that Clarke has entered their tent until warm arms are snaking around her waist. Lexa grins and sags into the soft body behind her as she pours herself a cup of water. 

She lifts the cup to her mouth to drink and nearly chokes on it when she feels warm, wet lips on the side of her neck. Lexa lowers the cup.

“How are you doing, babe?” Clarke asks softly when she’s done nuzzling at Lexa’s neck.

“Tired,” Lexa lets out, “But too wired to sleep.”

Clarke doesn’t respond verbally at first. Instead, Lexa gasps as the arms around her waist shift, and soon enough, Clarke’s hands are boldly squeezing at her breasts through her sparring shirt. The leather chest guard Lexa is wearing dulls the sensation somewhat, but the feeling is pleasant all the same and Lexa lets out an appreciative hum.

“Finish that water off and let me take care of you,” Clarke whispers now, lips brushing Lexa’s ear and tickling one of Lexa’s most sensitive spots.

Lexa smiles a wide, anticipatory smile, and then she drains the water from the cup. She does so messily, so that droplets of the liquid cover her lips and run down her chin. When she’s done, she places the cup on the table and spins in Clarke’s arms. Lexa watches Clarke’s eyes intently, notes with satisfaction how they immediately drop to her moistened lips. Clarke is a blur then, a vague image of something blonde and beautiful crashing towards Lexa. The kiss is heated and deep from the start, Clarke’s tongue pushes forward insistently and Lexa willingly parts her lips. She groans into the kiss as she tastes Clarke and finds herself melting forward, as close as she can get to her niron. Clarke responds by pushing back, a familiar and warming routine, and Lexa’s back makes contact with the war table. The action brings with it memories that make Lexa’s legs tremble, though she knows that the strong press of Clarke’s body against her own will keep her from falling.

When they part and Lexa opens her eyes, she knows that they are tear filled. Shimmering green bores into sky blue, needy and pleading. Lexa is done being in control for the day, done measuring her body’s every action and reaction. She needs Clarke’s hands on her, to bring her back to herself. A day of fighting, even friendly competitive fighting, has left her mind in a fouler place than it’s used to residing in this time of lasting peace. She needs to know, is desperate to be sure, that Clarke loves her regardless, that she is still deserving of that love in the eyes of who matters most to Lexa when her duties are done for the day, the door closed on her role as Commander for a brief respite.

Their next kiss is longer and gentler; Clarke’s response to seeing the tears in Lexa’s eyes. Their lips meet and part, heads turning this way and that. Soothing. Grounding. Lexa feels as Clarke’s hands begin to work on the buckles of her chest guard and she lifts her own hands to help, so that the armour is more quickly removed. Lexa tosses it carelessly to the floor somewhere behind Clarke, her brain too addled by the sensation of Clarke’s teeth grazing lightly against her bottom lip, to think about being careful. With the armour no longer in the way, Lexa makes a blind grab for one of Clarke’s hands. When she finds one, she lifts it and places it over her breast, is rewarded with a wonderful squeeze of the sensitive flesh that has her breaking their kisses just to whimper into the minimal space between them.

Clarke continues to play, alternating between firm and full squeezes and gentle tweaks of l  
Lexa’s nipple. The extra friction of Lexa’s shirt makes her shiver in delight every time Clarke captures the swollen bud between her fingers. Clarke does not stop at that though, and Lexa feels as Clarke’s free hand glides down her side, past her hip bone to grab at a thigh, Then, her legs are being parted and Clarke slips one of her thighs between them. Lexa moans and presses herself onto the offered thigh, Clarke encouraging her by making a grab at her ass and pulling her close. The feeling of Clarke against her, the added stimulation provided by the way Lexa’s jeans shift against her pussy as she grinds, has Lexa growing even wetter than she already was. She can feel her soaked shorts clinging to her pussy lips, is certain that that wetness will soon start to show on the fabric of her pants. Her bottom lip wobbles with need as she grinds onto Clarke’s thigh with abandon.

“Clarke,” she breathes out, “I need your hand on me.”

Clarke responds with a gentle peck, right over the freckle on Lexa’s top lip. Then she retracts her thigh and Lexa would have been disappointed if she wasn’t so excited for what was to replace it.

Lexa goes to remove her shirt for Clarke, to save her partner the effort, but Clarke catches her hands and prevents her from doing so.

“Don’t bother, babe. I can do that later,” she says and then she lets go of Lexa’s hands and makes short work of unfastening Lexa’s pants.

There’s no fanfare, no teasing. Clarke places her fingers at the top of Lexa’s pants, waits for Lexa’s small nod of consent, and simply slides her hand down under the fabric of Lexa’s pants and knickers both. Her warm palm cups Lexa’s pussy fully. Lexa whines in satisfaction.

“Fuck,” Clarke mutters under her breath, and then louder and more deliberate; “You’re so wet, Lexa.”

“For you,” Lexa responds, voice ragged, “All for you, niron.”

“Tell me what you want,” Clarke requests, “I want to take such good care of you, babe.”

Clarke’s words alone make Lexa’s hips jerk, her dripping pussy sliding over Clarke’s palm as they do so. Lexa groans and decides that that is exactly what she needs.

“Just touch me, Clarke,” she whimpers out. Her soft sighs louden to a moan as Clarke drags the tips of two fingers up and over Lexa’s swollen, proud clit.

“There?” Clarke asks,

“Shaaa,” Lexa hisses.

Lexa’s clit is throbbing by now, and it makes it delicious and agonising all at the same time when Clarke presses two fingers firmly against the swollen, keen thing and starts circling her hand. Slowly, slowly Clarke touches her. The warmth of her fingers and of the breath tickling against Lexa’s neck as Clarke holds her close, makes Lexa’s eyes roll to the back of her head. She closes them in ecstasy and loops her arms around Clarke’s neck to keep Clarke’s face buried in the crook of her neck just as it is. Clarke responds to Lexa’s neediness by giving her clit a sudden pinch, not hard, but unexpected after the slow deliberate circles. Lexa feels her legs buckle and she lets out a cry, certain that were she not pressed flush against the edge of the war table by Clarke’s gorgeous, curvy body, she would have fallen right to her knees. Another pinch, harder this time, makes Lexa hiss in pleasure and she buries her face into Clarke’s hair, fills her nose with its rosy, homely scent.

After the teasing, Clarke picks back up with circling Lexa’s clit, going faster now with a clear result in mind. Lexa drops her head and nips at Clarke’s earlobe, feels Clarke hum appreciatively against her neck.

“Bite me,” Lexa whispers right into Clarke’s ear. Her reward is the feeling of Clarke’s hips bucking forwards, Clarke no doubt trying to find some friction. The action traps her busied hand tight between their bodies and Lexa responds by canting her own hips forward desperately, despite it being physically impossible for them to get any closer than they already are.

“Fuck, Lexa,” she feels Clarke curse against her neck more than hears it, and then the tickle of those words is replaced by the feeling of teeth sinking into the side of her neck. Lexa doesn’t care if Clarke marks her. Let everyone see and know that she is loved, wanted, claimed.

Clarke scrapes her teeth over Lexa’s flesh, sucks with her lips. Lexa lets out a long whine as Clarke licks her way down to the hollow of her throat and, judging by the intensity with which she attacks the sensitive skin there, leaves a mark there too.

All the while, Clarke’s hand works inside Lexa’s underwear, faster and harder, the tip of her middle finger always in direct contact with Lexa’s thrumming clit whilst her other fingers spread and swirl over her delicate inner lips. Lexa feels her oragasm building, the knots in her tummy tightening, tightening, ready to release with just the right push.

“Clarke,” she moans out, “I need you to kiss me.”

Clarke raises her head and stares into Lexa’s eyes. Lexa is thrilled to see how the blue is almost completely gone, replaced by the deep sparkling black of Clarke’s blown pupils.

“Do you want to come while I kiss you, Lexa?” she asks, voice husky and so very sexy, “Is that what you want?”

It takes all of Lexa’s remaining self-control not to simply let herself go at the sound of Clarke’s gravelly voice. She finds herself robbed of her own words and responds by simply nodding her head. Clarke’s mouth is on hers in an instant; a hot, wet kiss. When Clarke presses her tongue out, Lexa opens her mouth and captures the wet muscle between her lips, revels in Clarke’s taste. Clarke pulls it back into her own mouth against the resistance of Lexa’s sucking and then she captures Lexa’s quivering bottom lip between her teeth and bites hard. Lexa gasps at the sharp but pleasurable pain and then she tastes the unmistakable tang of the blood Clarke has drawn.

The sensation of the bite, the taste of her own blood on her tongue, sends Lexa’s head spinning. Clarke soothes the broken skin with gentle sucks, her care bringing Lexa’s mind back into the room just in time for her to lose it completely. Still sucking at Lexa’s lip, Clarke stops her circling and lets her hand cup Lexa fully once more. Then she presses the heel of her palm hard onto Lexa’s prominent clit and picks up speed once more. The delicious mixture of soft cushioned palm and the hard bone underneath gives Lexa all the friction she needs and she rocks her hips forward in time to Clarke’s circles. She feels Clarke’s fingertips start to tease around her dripping entrance and just the thought of them pushing into her is Lexa’s undoing. Her climax hits her almost suddenly, even despite her being able to feel its approach, and it robs Lexa of her breath and makes her body go rigid for a beat. Then, the waves hit and Lexa’s whole body shudders and trembles.

Lexa rips her mouth away from Clarke’s to moan her lover’s name over and over as she shakes, eyes squeezing shut. She feels as a generous trickling of desire flows from her opening, no doubt covering Clarke’s hand and Lexa’s already soaked underwear. Clarke works her through her climax, her hand slowing and lessening the pressure on Lexa’s clit. Her free hand locks around Lexa’s small waist, helping to keep her upright, keeping her pulled flush against Clarke’s own body even whilst she shivers through the last few blissful waves.

When at last her body stills, Lexa’s head feels like it’s too heavy for her neck and she rests her damp forehead on Clarke’s shoulder. She lets out a sigh as Clarke pulls her hand out of her pants, but is otherwise content to just stay as she is, basking in the afterglow of her orgasm. That is until Clarke speaks.

“Babe. Watch me,” Clarke coaxes.

Lexa almost groans as she picks her head up and she meets Clarke’s eyes with her own. Then she watches, face flushing and lips parting, as Clarke lifts her hand, visibly glistening with Lexa’s juices, to her mouth and licks from wrist to fingertip with the flat of her tongue. The spectacle is only made more enjoyable, or perhaps worse, by the low satisfied humming noise Clarke makes as she licks her own hand clean. At least, most of her hand because it does not go unnoticed by Lexa how Clarke’s tongue deliberately misses her ring finger.

Lexa feels her mouth water in anticipation, and sure enough, Clarke silently reaches out and offers the slick digit to Lexa. Lexa presses a kiss to Clarke’s finger tip first, and then, without breaking eye contact, she draws it into her mouth slowly and tastes her own pussy on Clarke’s skin.

“Don’t you taste good, babe?” Clarke asks.

Lexa responds with a hum of appreciation and she tickles the tip of her tongue along Clarke’s finger before drawing back, teeth grazing the flesh until she releases Clarke’s cleaned finger with a wet pop.

Even despite the intensity of her climax, Lexa feels herself growing wet again. Worried that Clarke might think she was done, she desperately loops her arms around Clarke’s neck and pulls her in for a sloppy, needy kiss that doesn’t communicate anything other than the burning need to be had a second time. Lexa ends the kiss with a loving peck to Clarke’s beauty spot and Clarke laughs in response.

“Oh, my darling, were you worried that I was done with you?” she teases.

Lexa feels her jaw flex involuntarily; a reaction to being read so easily. Clarke could always, always, see right through her. Still, she nods her head in admonishment.

Clarke lifts a hand and traces Lexa’s jawline with a finger, chin to earlobe. She tickles at the sensitive spot there and Lexa sighs.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, my love,” Clarke purrs, “You’ve told me what you want, and now I get to give you what I want.”

Lexa stands up straighter in response to this news, but does not dare to challenge Clarke. No, she wants, she craves, to let Clarke have her wicked way with her. Her breath catches in anticipation.

“First I’m going to strip off all those clothes, expose all of that lovely soft skin and those gorgeous muscles. Then I’m going to grab your ass and lift you onto the war table. You will lie back on it, wrap your legs tight around my neck, and let me fuck you as hard as I please until you come all over again. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Lexa almost shouts the word, so aroused is she by the mental images Clarke’s words have conjured of what is to come next. But then, she has one request to make and she sets wide, pleading eyes on Clarke’s face, “Can I ask for one thing, niron? Beja?” she stresses the last word.

Clarke narrows her own eyes challengingly, but then her face softens into a smile and she nods.

“Will you let me take your clothes off too, I want to see you,” Lexa asks.

“That’s not good enough to convince me, Lexa. Try again.” Clarke responds coyly,

Lexa swallows. She knows what Clarke wants to hear, knows that Clarke is well aware of how much harder Lexa finds it to use such blunt, explicit words. She opens her mouth and speaks in a rushed whisper, “Please let me strip you and see your beautiful, soft body. I want to watch your gorgeous tits bounce as you fuck me hard, beja, Clarke.”

If Clarke is taken aback by the bluntness of Lexa’s words, she does well to hide it. She is stubborn though, and rather than adhere completely to Lexa’s request, Lexa has to watch as Clarke makes quick work of removing her own clothes, tossing the garments aside haphazardly. Clarke only slows down when she’s left in just her cute undershorts. She thumbs at the hem but then seems to reconsider. Blue eyes settle on Lexa’s face and flash dangerously, like there is a storm raging within them.

“You can take these off,” Clarke says.

Lexa almost barrels forward to do so, but is stopped when Clarke raises a hand. Lexa raises a questioning eyebrow.

“With your teeth,” Clarke finishes.

Lexa drops to her knees instantly, barely even registering the action. She waits eagerly as Clarke closes the space between them and then, once she’s close enough, Lexa takes a risk and lands a hot, wet kiss to Clarke’s wonderfully soft tummy. When she’s done, she glances up at Clarke through her lashes, all innocent and daring Clarke to chastise her. 

“Risky, babe. But I’ll let it slide this once because it felt so good,” Clarke says, “Now, I want you to put your hands behind your back. Clasp them together.”

Not willing to take any more risks, Lexa complies.

“Good girl,” Clarke purrs, “If you move them at all, unclasp them even a little, I will go to bed and leave you untouched. You don’t want that, do you?”

“No, niron,” Lexa responds.

“You want to be fucked don’t you? I bet you’re so wet right now. Are you wet for me, Lexa?”

Lexa has to swallow hard before she can respond, “Yes, Clarke.”

In fact, Lexa is so wet that her sheer knickers are clinging to her uncomfortably and she can barely think through the need to be stripped of her clothes as quickly as possible. 

“You may remove my shorts now. But I warn you, if you try to do anything more, you won’t get what you are after. Tonight, you are mine to have alone,” Clarke warns.

Lexa gives a nod of understanding and then she captures the hem of Clarke’s underwear between her teeth and begins to tug the garment down. Lexa keeps her hands clasped tightly together behind her back as she works methodologically, switching from one side of the garment to the other, working the shorts down each leg in turn. Without the use of her hands, Lexa has to awkwardly shuffle backwards on her knees and then lean forwards to get the shorts below Clarke’s knees. By the time she reaches Clarke’s beautiful ankles, her body is aching, already sore from the day’s sparring and the orgasm she’s already had, and now being tested to the limit by the awkward task given to her. Still, she does not falter and her hands remain resolutely clasped. She gets the underwear to Clarke’s feet and spits them out. Lexa pauses a moment, enraptured by the visible dark wet patch left on the shorts from Clarke’s arousal. She feels a finger under her chin and then her head is being lifted up.

“Well done,” Clarke praises affectionately, “You may stand.”

Lexa does as requested of her, but she cannot stop her eyes from glancing back down at Clarke’s soaked underwear.

“See something you like, Lexa?” Clarke asks sternly.

Lexa flicks her eyes back to Clarke’s face, where she knows they were already supposed to be, “Yes,” she admits.

“Do you want to taste, my love?”

Lexa bites her lip, unsure if it’s a trap. She decides that honesty is the best policy, “Yes,” she says again. She expects Clarke to get her back on her knees; she’d drop back to the floor quite willingly. What happens instead is simultaneously utterly cruel, and so much better.

Clarke bends and steps out of her shorts, picking them up. When she rights herself, she makes a show of folding them into a neat ball so that the wet patch left by her pussy is on the outside.

“Open your mouth,” Clarke instructs.

Lexa’s mouth falls open, more than she follows the command. She stands, still and compliant, as Clarke stuffs her underwear into Lexa’s mouth. Lexa moans into the fabric when her tongue finds the soaked material and is greeted by Clarke’s heady, mouthwatering taste. The garment fills her mouth and spills out between her lips, making her cheeks ache.

Clarke considers her, clearly enjoying the sight of Lexa with her underwear gag. Then, she reaches behind Lexa and when she retracts her hand, she’s holding the metal cup that Lexa had left on the table. She offers it and Lexa takes it from her.

“You strike the table with the cup if you want me to stop and remove the underwear,” she explains, “I’m going to undress you now, ok?” Clarke asks.

Lexa of course, can only nod her consent. Clarke flashes her a beautiful, but slightly dangerous, smile and her hands find the hem of Lexa’s shirt. Lexa diligently raises her arms in the air, holding the cup tight in her fist, and Clarke removes the shirt in one smooth motion, hands gliding up Lexa’s sides as she goes. The clothing is thrown aside and then it is Clarke’s turn to kneel. She unbuckles and removes Lexa’s boots, her socks. She pauses her progress to trace the definition of Lexa’s bones under the skin of her foot. It makes Lexa’s toes curl and Clarke peers up at her with a smirk,

“I hope that isn’t the only thing that gets your toes curling,” she drawls out. Clarke stays on her knees and reaches for the hem of Lexa’s pants, already unfastened of course. Then she tugs those and the ruined knickers underneath down Lexa’s legs, fingers grazing skin all the way down, until the clothes are pooled at Lexa’s ankles. Lexa stays totally still.

“Step,” Clarke says.

Permission given, Lexa steps out of the last of her clothes and stands totally naked before Clarke. Lexa watches as Clarke’s eyes roam over her body, notes the way her lover’s stare pauses at her small, pert tits, widens at the sight of her toned stomach, and then finally settles on the neat brown curls, made darker by Lexa’s wetness, between her legs.

Lexa battles with herself. She wants to try to spit Clarke’s knickers from her mouth and beg Clarke to put her mouth on her there and then, to lap every last drop of her up. But Lexa stays silent, keeps the panties sucked hard against her tongue, her cheeks burning from the stretch, for she knows that that isn’t what Clarke has planned for her tonight. She waits.

Clarke stands up and seemingly without much thought, she reaches out and tweaks one of Lexa’s painfully erect nipples. Lexa cries out softly around Clarke’s panties at the shock and then lets out a muffled moan as Clarke soothes the hurt with a gentle stroke on the bud with the pad of her thumb. The quietness of her noises must remind Clarke that she is still gagged and Clarke lifts her attention to Lexa’s face and pulls the shorts from Lexa’s mouth. They are drenched with Lexa’s saliva, a testament to the effort she’d put into trying to suck every last drop of Clarke’s taste from them as Clarke was undressing her.

Clarke assessed her clothing critically, “Were you enjoying those, babe?”

“I was,” Lexa replies. She works the stiffness from her jaw.

“Do you wish I would let you taste me properly, Lexa?”

Lexa catches herself before she can let out an eager yes. Instead she shakes her head, “No, niron. I wish to do exactly as you want me to do.”

“Good girl,” is all the response Lexa gets back from Clarke, and Lexa feels her ears burn at the praise.

Now, Clarke steps forward and backs Lexa against the war table once again. She snakes her arms around Lexa’s frame and grabs her ass cheeks firmly, digging her fingers hard into the round, toned flesh, making Lexa hiss in delight. Lexa feels herself being lifted up and then her ass meets the smooth, polished wood of the table. Although she burns with the desire to kiss Clarke fiercely, she does not move a muscle, and waits for Clarke to give her next instructions. Clarke must have sensed her need however because she leans in and presses a series of sweet, popping kisses to Lexa’s mouth.

Clarke pulls back and considers Lexa. “I’ve decided I want to punish you a little more for daring to ask me to take my clothes off,” she announces, as she takes the cup that Lexa is still holding onto, and puts it to one side; no longer needed now that she’s granted Lexa the use of her voice again.

Lexa waits to see what that punishment might be.

“You said you wanted to see my tits bounce as I fuck you. So now, you have to hold your word. You keep your eyes open and on me the whole time. Shut them only to blink. If I decide they’ve shut for too long, I will stop.”

Lexa’s eyes widen, in shock and perhaps in an involuntary confirmation of her obedience. “I understand,” she says.

“Lie back. Eyes on me,” Clarke says.

Keeping her neck strained so that her eyes never leave Clarke’s, Lexa drops her back to the surface of the table. 

“Put your arms up. Grab the opposite edge with your hands,” is Clarke’s next instruction.

Lexa complies, her hands blindly finding the edge of the wood and taking a solid grip.

Clarke stares down at her with unabashed want. “Lift your legs up, spread them for me, wide as you can.”

Lexa can’t help but smirk a little. Although Clarke’s voice is firm, Lexa can detect the undertone of sheer need and desire, the tenderness underneath the bravado. She follows Clarke’s order with effortless grace, her legs lifting, slightly parted so she can maintain eye contact, until they are perfectly straight in the air. Then she begins to open them, as wide as she can, which is a lot thanks to the suppleness of her warrior’s body. She spreads herself before Clarke, leaving her pink, drenched pussy open and on full display. The cool air of the war tent hits her sensitive flesh and makes Lexa shudder.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, Lexa. And so wet. I bet my fingers are going to slide inside you so easy. That’s what you want isn’t it? My fingers inside you?” Clarke murmurs.

It’s another test, “If that is what you want, ai hodnes,” Lexa replies cleverly.

“Such a smart girl,” Clarke coos. She reaches out and hooks her arm around Lexa’s calf, directs her leg onto her shoulder, “Saying exactly what I want to hear. Pretending that you aren’t a desperate, needy, aching mess who is just waiting to be fucked so hard.” She puts Lexa’s second leg on her other shoulder. But she isn’t done taunting, “Just look at what a state you are. Seeing you like this drives me insane, you know that? Seeing your clit all swollen like that, sticking out between those pink lips and begging for attention. I’m going to make you beg.”

After those warning words, Lexa is stunned when Clarke leans over at the waist. She is ecstatic when Clarke then places her lips around Lexa’s clit in something between a suck and a sweet kiss. Lexa watches Clarke intently, painfully aware of the rules set that she must follow even as Clarke’s mouth works to drive all awareness from her brain. Clarke stares back through her long eyelashes. Her lips are still on Lexa’s clit when Lexa feels two fingers slide inside of her, her wetness making them slip in so easy, all the way to the knuckle, just as Clarke had said they would.

It takes all Lexa has not to squeeze her eyes shut and slam her head down onto the table as she lets out a long, satisfied groan. Clarke’s thick fingers fill her up, totally still to give Lexa time to adjust to the sensation. But even when Lexa is more than ready, eager even, for Clarke to start moving, Clarke’s fingers stay resolutely motionless, buried inside her. Now, Clarke’s words make sense.

Clarke straightens up and stares down at Lexa. “Tell me you want this.”

Lexa gasps at the way Clarke hisses the words out. “I want this,” she chokes out.

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“I want this, Clarke. I want your fingers, fucking me. I need it. I want to come for you Clarke,” Lexa gives a pause, just the slightest tease that she might fail to say the magic word, and then in a desperate whimper, “Beja.”

Clarke makes no verbal response to hearing what she was after. She doesn’t need to, the wonderful, satisfying feeling of her fingers pulling slowly out of Lexa only to plunge back in is all the response Lexa needs. Again, Lexa finds herself battling to keep her eyes open and on Clarke as she cries out a moan.

“Say my name, babe,” Clarke asks as she thrusts again.

Clarke’s name comes tumbling from Lexa’s lips in a choked prayer, again, again, and again, every time Clarke thrusts into her. Lexa is greedy, rendered totally unashamed by her need, and she clenches down on Clarke’s fingers, drawing them into her. Soon, the wet, delicious sound of her arousal is mixing in the air with her mutters of Clarke’s name.

“You feel so good, Lex. So warm and wet. So fucking tight around my fingers. All full up,” Clarke purrs out as she moves. “I’m going to fuck you so good baby. I want you to feel it tomorrow when we ride home. I want you sore so you can’t forget how I claimed you as mine tonight. Would you like that?”

“Sha, niron,” Lexa manages, breaking her constant prayer of Clarke’s name. “I am yours, take me.”

Lexa knows she has answered well when Clarke picks up her speed. Soon, she is thrusting into Lexa ferociously, putting the weight of her curvaceous hips into each thrust. Lexa would smile if her mouth wasn’t too busy letting out a constant stream of moans and trigedasleng curses, for the force of Clarke’s thrusts grants Lexa her wish. She watches, mesmerised, as the generous swells of Clarke’s breasts bounce freely as Clarke fucks her hard. Lexa feels her mouth water as her green eyes fixate on large, dusky pink areola and the reddish nipples in the centre, she tries to track their movement even as they blur with each bounce. Lexa imagines having those nipples in her mouth, imagines sucking them onto her tongue. She tears her eyes away just to stare into Clarke’s eyes, knowing that her lover will know exactly what she was thinking about.

It is her undoing. So distracted is she by the thought of having Clarke’s tits in her mouth, that Lexa doesn’t notice the way Clarke adjusts her hand slightly. Then, Lexa’s vision swims as she feels a thumb on her clit, and if that wasn’t enough to send her soaring into a second climax, the way that Clarke curls and flutters her buried fingers firmly against Lexa’s outer wall is. Her orgasm tears through her body, the teasing and the tension, the efforts she went to to earn it making it all the more intense, all the more blissful.

Lexa’s knuckles turn white as she grips desperately to the edge of the table. Her long legs shudder against Clarke’s shoulders and her toes curl. Clarke keeps thrusting, in, out, coaxing every last shuddering wave from Lexa’s body. And there are so many waves, so many aching crests and heavenly falls. Lexa’s stomach aches with the force of them, her back arching off the surface of the table. Even so, the whole time, her eyes remain stubbornly open and fixated on Clarke’s. And then, at last, the orgasm fades into a gentle satisfied thrum deep in Lexa’s bones and Lexa shudders at how sensitive she feels. She doesn’t need to ask or force Clarke to stop though, for Clarke is so adept at reading her body that she stills her thrusts exactly before they become unbearable.

The couple stare at one another, both short of breath from the exertion of their fucking. Lexa watches how Clarke’s chest heaves, notes with satisfaction the gorgeous sheen of sweat covering Clarke’s breasts, the beads gathered in the space between them.

“Let me clean that up for you?” Lexa ventures.

Clarke considers a moment and then nods. “Alright, since you’ve been so good for me,” Clarke assents.

Lexa gasps when Clarke finally pulls her fingers from her, a sudden feeling of emptiness mixed with the ache of having just been fucked so hard. Clarke was right that she’d remember this night whilst sat in the saddle tomorrow. Lexa finally lets go of the edge of the table and uses her hands to push her weary body up into a sitting position. Then, she leans forward and laps up the sweat collected in Clarke’s cleavage, humming at the sweet saltiness of it. When she’s done, she lingers and nuzzles her nose into Clarke’s breasts. She feels a hand bury itself in her hair, nails scratching lightly at her scalp.

“Let’s get you to bed, my love,” Clarke’s voice is gentle and soothing now.

Lexa hums in approval of the idea. She picks her head up and stares sleepily into Clarke’s wondrous face. Then, she tries to hop off the table and stand upright, but were it not for Clarke’s lightning reflexes and strong hands, Lexa would have ended up in a pile on the floor. Her legs were turned to jelly and fatigued beyond belief. Lexa clung onto Clarke tightly with both arms, not daring to let go.

“I’ve got you, Lexa,” Clarke assured and then Lexa felt herself being swept off her useless feet until she was cradled in Clarke’s arms.

“Thank you,” Lexa mutters out, and then she buries her face into Clarke’s bare chest and inhales the comforting scent of her niron’s skin as she is carried towards their bed.

“My little warrior noodle,” Clarke coos.

Lexa furrows her brow and lifts her head off of Clarke’s breast. “What did you just call me?” she asks, her voice a tired croak rather than the insolent hiss she had been trying for.

“A little warrior noodle,” Clarke repeats.

“I am the Commander of the Twelve Clans. I am not a ‘warrior noodle’,” Lexa protests. She feels herself being jostled as Clarke adjusts her hold on her tired body.

“Of course you are. Why do you think I’m carrying you to bed like a damsel? Too much leg for me to just lift you up like you do me,” Clarke argues her case.

Lexa lets out a sigh that turns into a thankful whine when Clarke reaches the bed and places her gently onto the mattress. Her eyes drift closed and she dozes and listens to Clarke padding around to the other side of the bed, feels the comforting dip of the mattress when Clarke climbs in beside her.

“Do you need me to do anything else for you, darling?” Clarke asks.

Lexa fights her eyes open, “I’m alright,” she assures, “You take good care of me.”

Clarke smiles at that. “You do make me laugh, you know,” she says.

“Why?”

“Well look at you. You’ve spent all day fighting warriors twice your size. Getting knocked down only to pick yourself back up stronger than ever. Then you get fucked and have a couple of orgasms and you can’t stand on your own two feet,” Clarke teases.

Lexa nearly huffs, but she catches herself and instead fixes her eyes onto Clarke, musters all the sincerity into them that she can, “That’s because I know that when I’m with you, I’m safe. I don’t need to pick myself back up,” she says.

Lexa notices the way Clarke’s eyes widen, the blush that creeps onto her cheeks. She looks back at Lexa with a grin, “You’re sweet,” she says.

“You’re probably on edge,” Lexa responds, hazarding a guess. She had after all, seen the damp mess of Clarke’s knickers before they’d been stuffed in her mouth for her to taste.

Clarke tilts her head, “A little,” she admits.

“Miya,” Lexa beckons, reaching her arm out to grasp at Clarke’s side, her fingers digging in lovingly to the flesh on her side, “How do you want to solve that?”

“Lexa, you’re exhausted,” Clarke protests,

“So pick something that requires minimal effort on my part,” Lexa shoots back. She watches Clarke bite her bottom lip.

“Can I use your stomach? Those muscles?” Clarke asks, 

“I would love you to, Clarke,” Lexa responds and her hand pulls more insistently on Clarke’s side until Clarke shifts herself onto her knees and straddles Lexa.

Clarke doesn’t waste time, clearly more in need of a means of release than she’s letting on. Lexa lets her eyes roam over Clarke’s body until they settle on the thick golden curls between Clarke’s thighs. She feels herself swallow hard when she watches as Clarke puts her index and middle finger against herself and then uses them to part her thick, pinky red lips to reveal a shy, heavily hooded clit between them. Saliva fills Lexa’s mouth as she stares, noting how drenched Clarke is between her generous inner lips. Then, Clarke lowers herself down onto the defined plane of Lexa’s stomach and Lexa groans at the sensation of Clarke’s desire coating her bare skin.

Clarke sits still atop her a while and Lexa lifts her eyes back to to Clarke’s face. The expression of desire, need, and open love she finds there steals her breath away.

“Yu so laik meizen, Clarke,” Lexa whispers reverently.

Clarke doesn’t answer, she just smiles and starts to move, grinding herself down onto Lexa’s stomach, finding the friction she must desperately need against her clit. Lexa, still exhausted and ready for sleep, simply watches in wonder, mesmerised by the spectacle and by the feeling of how smoothly Clarke’s pussy slides against her abs.. 

It doesn’t take Clarke long, after only a couple of minutes, maybe less, her movements have grown desperate and her skin is shining in the candlelit tent with a fresh sheen of sweat. Lexa finds the energy to lift her hands to Clarke’s hips, grips them to support Clarke as her body begins to tremble. Her climax is soft and short and utterly mesmerising to behold. Lexa’s heart sings when she hears Clarke mutter out her name in between gasps for air, her eyes squeezed tightly shut in bliss. Then, Clarke is spent too, having found the release she had needed. She flops to the side and onto the mattress carelessly and Lexa smiles.

“Clarke,” she says. A low unintelligible mumble is her response. She speaks again; “You are on the wrong side of the bed Clarke, I won’t sleep.”

There is a sigh and then Lexa feels the mattress shift as Clarke picks herself back up and as good as face plants over Lexa’s body onto the other side of the bed; the side furthest away from the entrance into the tent.

Safe and satisfied in the knowledge that her body now protects Clarke from potential intruders into the tent, Lexa settles onto her side and closes her eyes. She sighs happily when she feels a warm arm wrap itself possessively about her frame, a leg hook over her own, and the most wonderful feeling of bare breasts pressing flush against her back.

“Ai hod yu in, Lexa,” Clarke whispers into her ear.

“I love you too, Clarke,” she replies, “Always.” Lexa feels sleep begin to creep up on her, but then a thought occurs to her and her brow furrows, “Clarke?” she murmurs, “What’s a noodle?”

“You are, Lex,” comes Clarke’s croaky response, and then, taking a move out of Lexa’s book, “Now shhh.”


End file.
